


Bushels of Apples

by NerdsbianHokie



Series: Overfill [1]
Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-01-19 11:45:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1468282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdsbianHokie/pseuds/NerdsbianHokie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All of my Bering and Wells drabbles in one place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Peppermint

_Imagine your OTP decorating a Christmas Tree. Person A keeps stealing all the candy canes._

"Helena, you need to stop."

"I don't know what you are talking about, darling."

"You keep taking the candy canes off of the tree."

Helena adopted the most innocent face she could muster.

"I would do nothing of the sort."

Myka just stared at her, the stepped close, trapping Helena between her taller body and the Christmas tree. She wrapped her arms around Helena, and leant down to kiss her. It wasn't long before Helena parted her lips, giving Myka the evidence she needed.

Myka pulled back slightly.

"You taste like peppermint," she whispered as she slipped the stolen candy from Helena's back pocket.


	2. Uncomfortable

_Imagine Person A of your OTP finding Person B's porn stash._

**Warehouse 13  
Bering and Well**

"Helena?"

"Yes, darling?"

"What is this?"

"One would think that to have a rather obvious answer."

"…You keep porn hidden in your closet?"

"Well, it's not like I could keep it somewhere just anyone could find."

"The closet part isn't what I'm questioning, it's the… porn part."

"Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"No, no, no. It's just not what I expected to find."

.

.

"Helena?"

"Perhaps I can help conquer some of that discomfort."

"I told you, it doesn't make me uncomfo…."


	3. Dickens

_Myka trying to convince Helena to keep Dickens_ from niftybottle on tumblr

"A cat, Myka, a cat."

"I know what type of animal he is, Helena," Myka sighed.

Helena just rolled her eyes, then locked them on the grey creature in Myka's arms.

"I do not see why you insist that I take that creature in. It is not my cat."

"He doesn't see it that way. He just see's you as the person who cared for him, who loved him."

"I am not that person."

"Physically, you are."

Helena continued to stare at the cat. It merely looked back.

"You are his world, Helena, imagine your world being taken from you, and being sent somewhere completely different, somewhere you don't belong."

Helena's eyes turned from Dickens to Myka. Green eyes held her gaze until Helena's resolve fell. She stepped forward and took the cat into her arms. She resisted the urge to drop it when it squirmed a bit to settle.

"You do not play fair, just so you know," she stated before turning around and walking away.

-oOo-

Myka grinned. Helena had vigorously protested keeping that cat. Had she fought just a little longer, Myka just might have given in.

The sight before her, however, made her glad that she had won. She quickly pulled her phone out and took a picture.

Helena, passed out in her favorite chair, with a book draped on the armrest and Dickens curled up in her lap. Helena's arm curled around the small body. Her fingers were buried in the fur at his neck.

Myka put her phone away, and quietly left the room.

HG Wells might not have been a cat person, but Helena had fallen asleep with a cat on her lap.


	4. Public

_Bering and Wells uncomfortable in public (they DO live in South Dakota. Not the most accepting lot) prompt from anon tumblr user_

Her hand brushed against yours. Your fingers twitch. You would like nothing more than to take her hand in yours. You know she wants the same thing. You both hold back, however.

Having been raised in a society where such a relationship was a criminal offense, you are still accustomed to hiding. Not even Charles knew of your relations with women, and for good reasons. You vividly remember when Oscar Wilde, one of your few confidantes, had been prosecuted and virtually executed.

You had hoped that after so much time, so much progress, love would have become genderless. It should not have surprised you when you had discovered that the discrimination and oppression towards those who did not follow the common definition of love was still rampant. After all, there was still obvious hatred towards those who did not fit the racial and gender 'majority.'

Your shoulder lightly presses into her. It doesn't take much effort, really. You have a habit of residing well within her personal space. You see her smile out of the corner of your eye.

She had explained it to you one day, the progress the world was making in regards to the accepted image of love. It was getting better. There was more equality, more acceptance, more visibility. Genderless marriage was legal in multiple counties and states. The younger generations were more open to equality.

However, there was still a long fight ahead. Sons and daughters were disowned. Children were destroyed by their peers. Politicians claimed that love like yours simply does not exist.

Her hand brushes against yours again. You take it this time. You look at her and smile. She smiles back, then falters slightly, her eyes shifting to something behind you. You turn.

You have visited places, during your personal travels as well as on missions, where nobody looked twice at the two of you. Places where the gender of a person's love is irrelevant. Places where you can act however you want with her.

Univille is not one of those places.

A woman is watching the two of you from across the street. A look of disgust covers her face.

You both drop your hands.

You from growing up with the knowledge that these feelings were a crime. That the country would persecute you.

Her from growing up with the knowledge that these feelings were a crime. That society and peers would persecute her.


	5. Naked

_Imagine Person B of your OTP looking through Person A's books when a naked baby photo of Person A falls out of one._

"Myka, what is this?"

Myka looked up from the book in her hands. Helena was sitting on the floor in front of their bookcase. A few books were stacked around her, but she was focused on the small piece of paper in her hand.

She turned to look at Myka with a large grin, and tilted the paper. Myka's heart skipped a few beats.

"This wouldn't happen to be you, would it?"

"No, no, what makes you think that?"

Helena's grin grew, and she flipped the paper over, revealing the words ' _Myka age 2 yrs 5 mths._ ' Myka lowered her head. Her hair fell forward, hiding her blushing face.

"Oh, darling, don't be embarrassed," Helena laughed. "It's not like I've never seen you naked before.


	6. Race

_Tumblr prompt: A picnic out where Pete and Claudia convince Myka and Jinks to join them in a three-legged race._

"Hey, Myka!" Myka lazily looked up at Pete from the book in her hands.

It was a nice day outside, the first in a while since everything had settled down with the Warehouse. So, the entire Warehouse team had retreated to the grassy area behind the B&B. They had shared lunch, then had spread out across the yard.

Claudia and Artie were using the patio table; Claudia had brought her laptop out, and Artie had been going through some paperwork. Steve and Pete had been throwing a football back and forth.

Myka was lounging beneath a tree, book in hand and arm around Helena, who was reading her own book while leaning against Myka.

Everything had been peaceful, until Pete had decided he wanted to disturb it. He was standing a few feet away from the women, rope hanging from his hands. He was grinning eagerly at Myka.

"Claudia convinced Jinks to join, so we need one more person," the man continued.

"I'd rather not, Pete," she told him. "I'm horrible at three-legged races."

"What exactly makes the race 'three-legged'?" Helena asked.

"I would use this rope to tie one of my and Myka's legs together, forcing us to run as a team," Pete explained.

"Sounds like good fun. I think you should participate, darling," she said to Myka as she sat up.

"Good. C'mon, Myka. It's you and me, against Jinks and Claudia," Pete grinned. "They are going down!"

He turned and started to yell over to Claudia.

"You know what a three-legged race is, they were around in your time," Myka said to Helena, who grinned.

"Of course, darling, and I believe that this one," she leaned in and pecked Myka's lips, "will be quite a spectacle, much more than the ones I have watched in the past."

"C'mon, Mykes!" Pete exclaimed.

"Best not keep him waiting," Helena laughed.

Myka glared at her as she pushed herself to her feet, then grinned when she turned to Pete.

"Let's go kick some three-legged ass," she laughed.

-oOo-

"You are not allowed to let Pete drag me into a three-legged race again," Myka grumbled as Helena started the car.

"I did not expect him to trip and fall on you, darling," Helena replied, her voice laced with mirth.

Myka didn't reply. She just crossed her arms and pushed herself further back into her seat.

"The plaster will be off in a few weeks."

"Six weeks, Helena, six weeks! What am I supposed to do with a cast on for six weeks?"

Helena stopped the car at a stop sign. She checked to ensure there was no one behind them, then leaned over and kissed Myka's temple.

"You will drive us all mad," she whispered, then laughed as she started to drive again.


	7. Text

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Accidental text Bering & Wells prompt !!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I don't really write Bering and Wells anymore, sadly, but I included them in a recent request for prompts on Tumblr, and got two. This was the first one.

_Don’t tell Myka_

The text weighed on Myka’s mind, worked at the edge of her mind.  She had gotten it about two hours ago and hadn’t been able to get her focus back on her paperwork.

It was clear the text wasn’t meant for her, anybody could see that, and she was pretty sure it was meant for Claudia, the only other person Helena texted on a regular bases.

The question was, what where they planning?

The two had a habit of conspiring and experimenting and causing trouble for the rest of them.

Whatever it was, if they were specifically not telling her, it couldn’t be good.

The only problem was that neither of them were at the Warehouse.  Claudia was on a snag with Steve.  Helena was on one of her missions for the Regents.

And both excelled at avoiding topics when not in person.  Helena because she excelled at talking around the topic.  Claudia because she would just hang up.

So, all she could really do was either wait until one of them got home, or wait until Helena realized she had texted the wrong person.

Myka sighed, let the pen hovering above the paper fall, and slumped back in Artie’s chair.

Unless this was part of their plan, get her worked up over what they could be doing.

But what if  _that_ was what they were going for?

Myka shook her head.

If that was their plan or not, that stupid text was all she could think about.

She checked her watch.  It was definitely late enough for her to head back to the B&B, and she wasn’t going to get any more work done.

She packed up her stuff, then checked her phone.  No further texts had come through.

She tapped the edge of her phone for a moment, before replying.

_Don’t tell Myka what?_

She watched the text for a moment, waiting to see if the read receipt would pop up, then slipped her phone in her pocket when it didn’t and headed out.

Part way through the drive, a reply came, her car announcing it with the annoyingly chirpy voice Pete preferred.

_Nothing, darling_

Myka rolled her eyes, and waited until she pulled into the driveway to reply.

_Liar_

She stopped in the kitchen to grab a drink, chatting briefly with Leena before heading up to her room.

Where Helena was standing in front of her bookcase, flipping through a book.

Myka leaned against the door frame and smiled as she watched for a moment.

“You’re home early,” Myka said.

Helena closed the book and turned.  She smiled and inclined her head in a nod.

“A good run of luck helped me wrap up the mission faster than expected.”

Myka stepped into her room, setting her cup on her desk as she passed it.

“Was this what the text was about?”

“In part, but it was mostly about this.”  Helena held the book out.

Myka took the book, letting her fingers run over Helena’s.  She turned it over in her hands.  Aged and bound in leather, there was no script on the cover or binding.

She opened the book to see an etching of Ophelia and Hamlet.

“Not quite a first edition,” Helena said, “but a special printing.”

“It’s beautiful,” she said, closing the book and hugging it to her chest.  She stepped forward to press a quick kiss to Helena’s cheek.  “Thank you.”

She turned and fled from the room, not wanting Helena to see the blush rising up her neck.


	8. Dedication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bering and Wells prompt: “Would you recognize yourself if I wrote about the gentle parts of you?” Thank you!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second prompt. We'll see how long it will be before I write these two again (it's been over a year at this point)
> 
> Super short.

The texture of the dust cover changed from matte to glossy.  The title and author’s name were raised.

Helena ran her fingers back and forth over the words.

_Myka Bering_

She sighed.

It was hardly a surprise.  She had helped Myka with the book, after all, giving advice and working through plot holes over late night Skype calls.

But to actually have a hard copy in her hands?  To finally read the story in full?

She hadn’t thought much of it.

She tried to think of Myka as little as possible, far from successfully, but she tried.

She brought her fingers up the cover, looking over the shadowed figure depicted.

The character was based on her, she knew that.  Myka had been open about it, tentatively asking one night, but had refused to give much information on the character.

She opened the book, the pages flipping to the dedication page

_To E.P., would you recognize yourself if I wrote about the gentle parts of you?_

Her breath hitched, her heart clenched.  She stared at the words.

E.P.  Edward Prendick.  Her.


End file.
